


Make it spring

by jauneclair



Series: Caress you into darkness and paradise [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, And feels, Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Madi POV, Madi is a little overwhelmed, Multi, Oral Sex, Post-Series, Silver cross-dresses, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, and she loves them, but it's okay because her boys love her, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 03:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10267718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jauneclair/pseuds/jauneclair
Summary: John's shy grin dissolves into the roguish one he wears when he thinks he's being charming. The act slips a little further when he swishes his skirts - Madi's skirts - and asks, "Left you speechless, have I?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, as much as I love Madi being the wise woman that she is and generally being far less emotionally constipated than either Flint OR Silver, I wanted to write something in which she is 200% the one being taken care of. Unbeta'ed.
> 
> My headcanon for this series is that this is a post-TI verse in which Madi and Silver have sold their inn and gone off to reunite with James in the New World.

It started out as a game, with an offhand comment made by one of them in jest: Madi showing John how to wear one of her dresses. Madi showing John how to line his eyes with kohl. And why not?

"I'm much better at taking these off than putting them on," he'd said with such a large wink as she helped him with the corset that she could almost imagine these rumors about the theatrical Long John Silver - more of a caricature than a man, to walk around with a tropical taking bird on his shoulder - to be true.

Madi could nearly hear James rolling his eyes, from across the front room.

She hadn't known whose benefit this was for - John's or James' or both - and she doubted they did, either, but she played along, amused the first time, at her bedraggled, bearded husband trying to combat with skirts and a crutch. The line of kohl under his eyes wobbling from when she hadn't been able to forestall her laughter.

But John wants to do it again, has gone to great lengths to do so, and how could either Madi or James ever refuse him this? So the two of them are sitting against the headboard on the bed the three of them share more often than not, their shoulders pressed together as James reads aloud from the book that Madi holds in front of them. And they wait.

"I think it's been hours," she remarks at one point. It is night and their only clock is in the other room, so she has no point of reference. It is a thing that has happened before, one of them reading to the other until John comes into the bedroom to tell them they've stayed up well past their appointed hour.

James pauses in his recitation to hum a little in response. Madi smooths the red fabric of her skirt across her lap and wonders what could be taking so long, and if whatever it is means that John's ruined one of her two proper, fine English dresses. She used to have more, when they had the tavern in Bristol. She can't say she misses them (or running the tavern).

The door opens. Madi has a first glimpse of a green skirt before the rest of John follows.

The whole world, within their bedroom, is suspended in space like a grain of sand stuck between two halves of an hourglass.

His face is - smooth. Completely smooth. He'd talked of shaving, of putting the persona of Long John Silver behind him, but she was not expecting - this. A clean face with sharp jaw lines and thick lines of black kohl sweeping around his eyes. There may be rouge on his lips (though she doesn't own any), or he may have just been biting them. In anticipation. In eagerness.

His hair is piled high on his head, held in place by a carved wood comb that one or both of them had bought for her. There is one fly-away tendril that escapes from his coif, curling in front of his ear. His neck is exposed on all sides.

Madi's never noticed what a beautiful neck John has, before.

The line of his neck leads her down, to where the bodice of the dress starts. She follows the lines down, to the point they reach his narrow waist. She looks at his face again. She feels suspended, still.

"Jesus Christ, John." James' words are practically a groan. Their book is already cast aside; the hunger rolls off him in waves as he makes his way down the bed, reaching for John. "You look - fuck."

John's shy grin dissolves into the roguish one he wears when he thinks he's being charming. The act slips a little further when he swishes his skirts - Madi's skirts - and asks, "Left you speechless, have I?"

Madi's voice is lodged in her throat. She doesn't know what she'd say even if she could speak.

They are both so delighted. And all she wants to do in this moment is disappear, slide under the door and leave them to it. Her whole body feels too like a candle wick, so of course this is the moment when John looks past James to her, still smiling.

I'm not here, she wishes to say. She wishes to look away or close her eyes. 

John's brow is furrowed. James stops his restless drive right at the edge of the bed, turning back to her.

"Madi?" 

She doesn't respond - cannot respond, in fact. Her whole body is shook with tremors.

"I'm sorry," John rushes to say. They - they think she's unhappy. Is she unhappy? She cannot say. This feeling of uncertainty that floods through her is not something she can say she's ever felt before, not even in the depths of the war. It's not some putrid fear. It's, it's -

John lets his hair out of the bun atop his head, as if he thinks this will somehow shatter the illusion. But his curls are tumbling past his shoulders, a few laying across his cheeks. She wants to laugh. (She can't.) She wants to touch the exact point on the curve of his cheekbone where that dark curl rests. She must be allowed, she knows this. (But her fingers won't stray from her side.)

John repeats, "I'm sorry," and he looks miserable, like a virgin about to weep.

"I," she begins. But she doesn't know what comes after.

The light in James' eyes shines brighter for a moment as he regards her. He crawls back up the bed and sits cross-legged beside her. His warm, broad hands slot around her waist as he lifts her into his lap. She takes a stuttering breath when his arm wraps around her middle, so that her back is flush against his chest. She has held him like this, so many times, that she recognizes this for what it is.

"Better?" His voice rumbles through both their bodies. 

Madi nods.

"Come here, John." It's soft, but with the inflection of a command. "We just need to take care of our princess properly."

John's face looks so young, and so hopeful, and still a little apprehensive as he lifts his skirts and comes towards them. He hasn't mastered the natural grace of his mark; but he does well, for a man with one leg in a woman's dress.

He kneels before her. James' palm rests flat against her belly, just a subtle reminder that he's there. That he's going to anchor her through this.

Madi brushes one of John's curls back from his cheek. He smiles, and she tucks it behind his ear. She leans forward and kisses him.

The touch of him against her mouth is - somehow different. Her John is so often hungry, like a man marooned on an island of himself and starved for affection. He's not often measured, like this. Perhaps they have finally taught him to be slow, that they have time, that -

The kiss deepens; the hunger returns and John is practically climbing into her lap (and James').

"Help me," she whispers, pulling at her own shirt.

They work together, the three of them: James helping her out of her shirt while John rucks her skirts up over her thighs and above her waist. Then she is nearly bare, still sitting in James' lap with his hands carefully curling around her hipbones. John leans forward. The dark curtain of his curls obscures his face as he places an open-mouthed kiss in the hollow of her throat. Madi tilts her head back, eyes closed, leaning against James' shoulder. His whiskers scratch against the side of her face. John's mouth trails down her chest, his kisses turning hot and hungry.

"Softer," she whispers.

John grins. "What, women aren't allowed to be demanding? Insistent? In command?"

"They are." She tugs at his curls, trying to move his mouth back to her skin. "But remember who it is that you're addressing in this bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

She gasps when he swirls his tongue in her navel. She tugs at James' hands, taking them in hers and guiding them to cover her breasts. He palms them gently, thumbs swirling over her nipples.

She loves James' hands. Calloused, and broad, and warm, like the rest of him.

A different pair of hands spreads her thighs apart. They're so soft, softer than hers; it startles her. They're John's: he smiles up at her, a little, as if he heard the thought. How long must he have spent with a pumice stone, to wear and wash away the changes that a life has sea written on them. How long and hard he thought every detail of this through -

Her body arches off the bed as his tongue teases at her entrance.

"You're very wet, ma'am," he says sweetly. He looks up at her through those dark eyelashes, seemingly even darker now that his eyes are lined with kohl. A shudder travels the length of her entire body, from the crown of her head to her toes. "I should continue, shouldn't I?"

Madi nods, once.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip as John applies himself to the task with a less-than-maidenly vigor. But she's too busy trying not to fly apart too soon to chastise him.

"You should take care of him," she pants out, near James' ear. "And yourself."

"Are you - "

"I'm sure."

His lips press a chaste kiss to her temple before he slides out from underneath her.

He disappears for what may be a few moments or a few months: she can't keep track of anything except the delightful agony of John playing her so perfectly with little licks of his tongue and little nips of his teeth.

When James reappears in her line of sight, he's naked, an open jar of oil in hands. He dips two fingers in and sets the jar aside, and then he's lifting John's skirts up to expose his ass. James gets a hand between John and the bed, and he's sliding a pillow under John's hips. John pulls away from her from a moment, looking over his shoulder as James grabs his ass with both hands.

"Now," James says, "if you were a proper slut, you'd have taken care to make sure you were ready and open for my cock beforehand."

John's gasp is strangled, his fingers sinking into Madi's thigh. He must have at least one of James' fingers inside of him by now. That thought gives her a secret thrill, and the two of them gasp together a moment later.

"And what would you know about fucking whores?" John asks, panting wetly against the soft skin of Madi's thigh. He plants a kiss there, biting down a little, as if to distract himself.

There's a loud smack. John cries out, his body lurching forward slightly. James' hand against his ass, Madi thinks.

"I'll fuck you hard for that," James says. His smile is smug, looking down at John's ass. It is beautiful thing, Madi knows. "And I believe your mouth has better uses, pet."

John groans and Madi thinks that James might be fucking him now. Madi isn't sure because she can't bear to watch without coming - and she wants to wait until they're all closer. So she lays back against the bed and tugs John's head along with her, until his mouth is on her again, hungrier than before. She doesn't protest, doesn't mind, now, not with the ragged sounds he's making and the moans he's pulling from her. His curls wind around her fingers: darker than her skin and trying to spring free turn-by-turn. She takes her nails to his scalp in order to see him shudder, his eyelids fluttering halfway closed as he trembles between her spread very legs.

James' hand joins hers on the back of John's head. Their fingers slot between each other and James strokes his little finger over Madi's.

Her orgasm, when it comes, does not come upon her gently. She shatters apart, shouting to the ceiling, and loses track for a few moments of everything except the vague sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the low rumble of male voices. 

Two warm weights settle on either side of her. They cradle her between their bodies. When she finally opens her eyes, her head turned to the side, she is looking at James. His eyes are bright and they crinkle around the corners when he smiles at her. She presses her mouth to his, thanking him with lips and tongue. Some things need to be said; and some things need to be said but can be said without any words.

"I think I've ruined this dress." John, for once, sounds properly chagrined.

Madi trails her fingers up the freckled skin of James' upper arm. The two of them exchange a glance before James says,

"We'll buy another."

And Madi, smiling, says, "We'll buy two."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr @ [jaune-clair](http://jaune-clair.tumblr.com/), currently being destroyed by S4 ;)


End file.
